My wife and I spent a weekend in the lovely town square for some R&R, and planned to spend our…read morefinal day post-check-out exploring the surrounds, about which we'd heard talk of vineyards and expansive green fields with wooden fencing, and of long paved driveways leading to large and palatial homes with late-model Range Rovers parked in front of them.
The rumors were absolutely true, and if you head in a northeasterly direction, approximately four minutes drive from the Martinborough Hotel and nearly half-way down Puruatanga Road, you will come across Poppies on your left-hand side.
There's a parking area that almost looks like it was built with the expectation that they may have to cater to Asian tour groups or European tourists in large RVs. According to people on the internets who write about wine for a living, the trees out front are bay, cypress and plane. I didn't notice, but a quick consultation with the Google Maps does indeed confirm the existence of trees in the parking area.
Upon entering this magnificent establishment - imagine an Italian villa minus the frescos but properly built by someone who clearly has an eye for understated luxury - we were warmly welcomed by a lovely lady who invited us to taste test five or six offerings seemingly on standby just for us.
Now, lets make one thing perfectly clear, I understand wine and its numerous variants, complexities and subtleties about as well as I understand nuclear fission, or neurosurgery, or conservative politics. I don't smell hints of forest floor and pencil shavings when I stick my nose in a glass of pinot, nor do I taste complex bean curd midtones with oaty mustard flavors when I sip a Chateau Pompeux du Chatte. Up until my visit to Poppies, my wine expertise was limited to profound commentaries such as "yeah, that wasn't too bad, I suppose."
But yeah, this tasting session changed all that.
As soon as the first glass - I think it was the Pinot Gris or something - slid down my throat leaving a residue of crisp, abundant fruity freshness in its wake, I knew that I was experiencing something special. This was no $12 supermarket wine. This was different. This was wine that you present to visitors and discuss at length before opening. This ... THIS was a freaking revelation.
And it went on. Five glasses. Five different wines. All mesmerizingly good. All delivering the full spectrum of tastes, from light and subtle to bold and explosive.
I bought three bottles on the spot. Believe me I would have purchased enough to fill the trunk of the Mazda 3, but I am a man of limited means, and we hadn't yet had lunch.
Oh yes, lunch.
The attached photos show a platter of various cheeses, dips, cold cuts, olives and other raw delicacies that the young lady who served us explained would go well with the wine we ordered or some such thing. I don't remember what she said, to be honest, because I was too busy surveying the immaculately prepared, exquisitely arranged kaleidoscope of color and texture that lay before me.
And again, I wasn't disappointed. It was superb. It tasted how it looked. It complimented the wine just as our waitress said it would. I'd had most of these ingredients in some form or another before, but somehow, this was better. Somehow, they'd unlocked the mysteries of food pairing, which I thought up until that point was simply blue cheese and crackers with red, and Dunhill cigarettes with white.
Everything worked here - the light, the rustic chic of the dining hall, the layout of the tables and chairs, the positioning of the kitchen and attentiveness of the staff - each of these elements combined to offer an overall experience that had a purpose to it, not in a pretentious or overly-business like way, but in a way that left me feeling as though there was a tangible sense of pride and a shared ownership and goal to create something great.
Mission accomplished.
